Our comrades are transferred frequently. Therefore, this list will continue to be updated as needed. The mailing addresses of the prisons where our comrades are being held are written in Greek, but with Latin letters in order to make it easier for those showing solidarity from other countries to send letters, postcards, etc. The way the addresses are written should make them understandable to Greek postal employees and civil servants.

Three comrades from the anarchist milieu are at large: Marios Seisidis and Grigoris Tsironis, fugitives since January 2006 (with prices on their heads since October 2009) and accused of the same bank robbery as Yiannis Dimitrakis, plus a comrade accused of belonging to Revolutionary Struggle.

For the first time on this list we have included prisoners from the leftist November 17 urban guerrilla group, who have been in prison since 2002 (the year the group was “dismantled”). Despite enormous political differences, most anarchists and antiauthoritarians support them. We also want to point out that Dimitris Koufodinas is perhaps the only political prisoner in Greece who is fluent in Spanish (he actually translated Xosé Tarrío’s Huye, hombre, huye into Greek).

There are also a number of “social” prisoners (Vangelis Pallis, Ilias Karadouman, and Spiros Stratoulis, among others) who always show solidarity with and are very active in struggles on the inside, but they haven’t been included on this list. Additionally, several weeks ago a young comrade was sent to Korydallos Prison after being brutally beaten by riot police (leaving him with a bunch of missing teeth, a head wound, and back injuries) while on his way home from a DIY concert in Exarcheia one morning. The pigs apparently identified him as one of the people who had carried out Molotov attacks on riot police units stationed in the neighborhood just a few hours earlier. However, the young man hasn’t yet decided if he wants his name to be released.

On January 16, 2006, Dimitrakis was arrested after being seriously wounded by police bullets during a bank robbery in downtown Athens. Arrest warrants were later issued for three comrades alleged to be his accomplices. Two of them, Marios Seisidis and Grigoris Tsironis, remain at large. The third, Simos Seisidis, was arrested on May 3, 2010. In June 2007, Dimitrakis was sentenced to 35 years and 6 months in prison. At a December 2010 appeal hearing, he was acquitted of several charges (one of which was attempted homicide of a security guard) and his sentence was reduced to 12 years. He is now able to go on leave from prison every other month.

In late August 2008, Chrysochoidis and Georgiadis were arrested in Thessaloniki and charged with the kidnapping of powerful industrialist Giorgos Mylonas, which took place earlier that summer. Chrysochoidis and Georgiadis denied that they participated in the kidnapping, but they did declare their solidarity with Vassilis Palaiocostas (Greece’s “most-wanted” and the country’s most famous bank robber, who has been charged in the same case). In February 2010, Chrysochoidis and Georgiadis were each sentenced to 22 years and 3 months in prison. An appeal hearing is scheduled for February 2012.

In October 2009, a warrant was issued for Argyrou’s arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. On November 1, 2010, he and Gerasimos Tsakalos were arrested for mailing incendiary packages. After their arrest, Argyrou and Tsakalos revealed that they are Fire Cells Conspiracy members. He was tried in the so-called “Halandri case” (for three specific Fire Cells Conspiracy attacks) and sentenced to 25 years in prison out of a total sentence of 37 years. He is currently awaiting future Fire Cells Conspiracy trials.

In September 2009, a warrant was issued for Bolano’s arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. On March 14, 2011, he and four other comrades were arrested in Volos. After his arrest, he revealed that he is a Fire Cells Conspiracy member. He is currently awaiting trial.

On September 23, 2009, Hatzimichelakis was arrested and charged with belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. In November 2010, after Panayiotis Argyrou and Gerasimos Tsakalos were arrested for mailing incendiary packages, Hatzimichelakis revealed that he is a Fire Cells Conspiracy member. He was tried in the so-called “Halandri case” (for three specific Fire Cells Conspiracy attacks) and sentenced to 25 years in prison out of a total sentence of 37 years. He is currently awaiting future Fire Cells Conspiracy trials.

In September 2009, a warrant was issued for Nikolopoulos’ arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. On March 14, 2011, he and four other comrades were arrested in Volos. After his arrest, he revealed that he is a Fire Cells Conspiracy member. He is currently awaiting trial.

Michalis Nikolopoulos
Kleisti Filaki Trikalon
TK 42100 Trikala
Greece

In September 2009, a warrant was issued for Nikolopoulos’ arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. On January 26, 2011, he was arrested, after which he revealed that he is a Fire Cells Conspiracy member. He is currently awaiting trial.

Giorgos Polydoras
Kleisti Filaki Kerkyras
TK 49100 Kerkyra
Greece

On March 14, 2011, Polydoras and four other comrades were arrested in Volos. After his arrest, he revealed that he is a Fire Cells Conspiracy member. He is currently awaiting trial.

Since mid-November 2010, Tsakalos had been at large, as a warrant for his arrest was issued shortly after the arrest of his brother Gerasimos. On March 14, 2011, he and four other comrades were arrested in Volos. After his arrest, he revealed that he is a Fire Cells Conspiracy member. He is currently awaiting trial.

On November 1, 2010 Tsakalos and Panayiotis Argyrou were arrested for mailing incendiary packages, after which they revealed that they are Fire Cells Conspiracy members. Tsakalos is currently awaiting trial.

In September 2009, a warrant was issued for Karagiannidis’ arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. On December 4, 2010, he was arrested during an antiterrorist operation that gave rise to the so-called “Nea Smyrni case” (Nea Smyrni is the Athens neighborhood where Alexandros Mitrousias and Costas Sakkas were arrested in possession of numerous weapons while leaving a garage where explosives and more weapons were found). Karagiannidis denies being a member of the Fire Cells Conspiracy, but he was nevertheless tried in the so-called “Halandri case” and sentenced to 20 years in prison. He is currently awaiting trial for the “Nea Smyrni case” (on charges of forming an “unnamed terrorist organization”), and it’s very likely that he will also face further charges for attacks carried out by the Fire Cells Conspiracy.

On September 25, 2009, a warrant was issued for Karakatsani’s arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy, and she was ultimately arrested on April 22, 2011. She denies being a member of the Fire Cells Conspiracy, but was nevertheless tried in the so-called “Halandri case” (for three specific Fire Cells Conspiracy attacks) and sentenced to 11 years in prison.

On September 23, 2009, Masouras was arrested. He was finally granted a conditional release on March 23, 2011 (given that he had already been in prison for 18 months, which in Greece is the maximum amount of time one can serve without having been sentenced). He denies being a member of the Fire Cells Conspiracy, but was nevertheless tried in the so-called “Halandri case” (for three specific Fire Cells Conspiracy attacks) and sentenced to 11 years and 6 months in prison. He was taken back into custody and returned to prison immediately after the sentences were announced on July 29, 2011.

In September 2009, a warrant was issued for Mitrousias’ arrest on charges of belonging to the Fire Cells Conspiracy. On December 4, 2010, he was arrested during an antiterrorist operation that gave rise to the so-called “Nea Smyrni case” (Nea Smyrni is the Athens neighborhood where Mitrousias and Costas Sakkas were arrested in possession of numerous weapons while leaving a garage where explosives and more weapons were found). Mitrousias denies being a member of the Fire Cells Conspiracy, but he was nevertheless tried in the so-called “Halandri case” and sentenced to 11 years in prison. He is currently awaiting trial for the “Nea Smyrni case” (on charges of forming an “unnamed terrorist organization”), and it’s very likely that he will also face further charges for attacks carried out by the Fire Cells Conspiracy.

—

Other prisoners in the “Nea Smyrni case” (there were six in total, but in May 2011 Dimitris Michail and Christos Politis were granted a conditional release pending trial):

As part of an antiterrorist operation that gave rise to the so-called “Nea Smyrni case,” Antoniou was arrested on December 4, 2010 in an apartment she shared with Costas Sakkas. She is currently awaiting trial for the “Nea Smyrni case” (on charges of forming an “unnamed terrorist organization”).

Costas Sakkas
Dikastiki Filaki Nafpliou
TK 21100 Argolida
Greece

On December 4, 2010, Sakkas was arrested during an antiterrorist operation that gave rise to the so-called “Nea Smyrni case” (Nea Smyrni is the Athens neighborhood where Sakkas and Alexandros Mitrousias were arrested in possession of numerous weapons while leaving a garage where explosives and more weapons were found). Sakkas is currently awaiting trial for the “Nea Smyrni case” (on charges of forming an “unnamed terrorist organization”).

—

Members of Revolutionary Struggle (although only three have revealed their membership, similar charges are being leveled at an unnamed comrade who has been at large since April 2010, Maria Beraha (Costas Gournas’ partner), Christoforos Kortesis, Sarantos Nikitopoulos, and Vangelis Stathopoulos (in April 2011, after spending a year in prison, the latter three were granted a conditional release pending trial):

On April 10, 2010, Gournas, Maziotis, Roupa, and three other comrades (who are currently on conditional release) were arrested on charges of belonging to the Revolutionary Struggle organization. On April 29, 2010, via an open letter, Gournas, Maziotis, and Roupa revealed that they are in fact members of Revolutionary Struggle. They are currently awaiting trial, which will most likely begin in October 2011.

On September 17, 2010, Kosivas and Traikapis were arrested (along with a female comrade, who was granted a conditional release) on the island of Evia on charges of robbing a bank in the town of Psachna that same day. They deny the charges and are currently awaiting their October 2011 trial.

On October 1, 2009, Stratigopoulos and Alfredo Bonanno were arrested in Trikala on charges of robbing a bank. Stratigopoulos admitted full responsibility for the robbery. Nevertheless, both men were tried on November 22, 2010. Bonanno was sentenced to four years in prison for being a “common accomplice,” but he was granted a release (along with a ten-year ban on entering Greece), while Stratigopoulos was sentenced to eight years in prison.

On October 13, 2010, Skouloudis was arrested in Thessaloniki while torching two Public Power Corporation (DEI) vehicles. He has admitted responsibility for the arson. After his arrest, four more comrades were named as his accomplices and went into hiding.

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The “Vyronas Four” (Vyronas is the Athens neighborhood where they were arrested):

Dimitsiadis, Fessas, Stylianidis, and Tzifkas were charged for the same October 13, 2010 arson of Public Power Corporation (DEI) vehicles that led to the arrest of Yiannis Skouloudis in Thessaloniki, so they chose to go into hiding. After spending three months underground, they were arrested on January 13, 2011 in an apartment in the Athens neighborhood of Vyronas, where a number of weapons were also found. They are currently awaiting trial for the Thessaloniki arson and for forming an “unnamed terrorist organization” (on account of the weapons they were found with). Some time ago, they released a lengthy letter as a contribution to the revolution.

On January 16, 2006, a warrant was issued for comrade Seisidis’ arrest on charges of taking part in the that day’s bank robbery during which Yiannis Dimitrakis was arrested. On May 3, 2010, Seisidis was shot by police during his arrest and suffered a serious injury to his leg, which later had to be amputated. He is currently at Korydallos Prison hospital. At his trial, which began in late March 2011, he was acquitted (due to a lack of evidence) of the January 2006 bank robbery as well as charges of having participated in another six bank robberies between 2006 and 2008 (since Seisidis was at large during that time period, the authorities “generously” charged him in a number of unsolved cases). Nevertheless, Seisidis remains in prison awaiting two more trials. On September 16, 2011, he will be tried for “attempted homicide”—of the same police officer who shot him from behind on May 3, 2010! Then there is a pending trial for arms theft involving an incident that took place over three years ago, when someone snatched a semiautomatic from the guard watching the home of a Supreme Court judge. Neither the weapon nor the perpetrator were ever found, thus making it easy to charge Seisidis.

—

Rami Syrianos
Dikastiki Filaki Ioanninon
TK 45110 Ioannina
Greece

On January 31, 2011, Syrianos was arrested in Thessaloniki after a robbery at an auction of vehicles seized by the police due to their connected to smuggling or customs violations. He has admitted responsibility for the robbery and is currently awaiting trial.

On the morning of February 11, 2011, while walking through the Athens neighborhood of Kypseli, Hatzivasiliadis was arrested in possession of two pistols. Despite the fact that carrying weapons is in itself not (yet) a felony in Greece, Hatzivasiliadis was nevertheless locked up because the judges at his hearing increased the degree of the charge in accordance with the antiterrorist law, intimating that Hatzivasiliadis “intended to use the weapons for indeterminate ends” (?).

On May 18, 2011, Mavropoulos was arrested in the Athens neighborhood of Pefki after being seriously wounded during a shootout with two patrol officers. The comrade who was with him managed to escape. Mavropoulos is being charged with two counts of attempted homicide, among other charges. After spending a month in the hospital, he is currently in a special solitary confinement wing located on the premises of the women’s prison at Korydallos. Members of November 17 are in the same wing.

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Sentenced in the November 17 case (the third Xeros brother, Vassilis, was released on July 20, 2011):

On December 23, Yiannis Dimitrakis’ final appeal hearing came to an end. The result was a reduction of his 35-year prison sentence (for the role he played in a 2006 bank robbery) to 12 years and 6 months. Greek law requires him to serve three-fifths of the sentence, and since he has already been locked up for almost five years, he has seven years and six months to go. He can be reached at:

The following is a translation of the first part of Dimitrakis’ own autobiographical account, recently published in the premier issue of Storming the Bastille: Voices from the Inside, which brings together a number of texts and letters written by prisoners in struggle.

I always keep in mind that image of myself, passing by the prison, unconsciously looking up at the high walls and the barbed wire on top. Which prison was it? Whenever I went with some friends by motorcycle to the Nikaia neighborhood, we rode down Grigoriou Lambraki Street, and the stone walls of Korydallos Prison mesmerized me. I don’t know why. Was it because there were times I found myself on the nearby streets—breathing room, but never too close, since all the approaches were completely blocked by the police—simply because of one of the marches in solidarity with comrade prisoners? Or was it perhaps because that enormous, imposing building, so diligently concealing everything going on inside its heart—an entirely unknown world with its own laws and rules, full of heroic stories and human torment—merely piqued my curiosity?

Now that I think about it, I remember another time when I was in front of a prison. It must have been in the spring of 2003, when we were demonstrating outside the Larissa “penitentiary” institution. Yet another dungeon located in the suburbs of that city, next to a school. There, prisoners have the unfortunate privilege of being able to test the Thessaly countryside’s paranoid climate on their own skin. In the summer, you stew in your own juices, with temperatures around 43ºC. And in the winter, you search frantically for a little heat beneath a mountain of blankets in order to escape the cold, which sometimes dips below -10ºC. Pure madness. I learned this first-hand from prisoners who did time there, and Vangelis Pallis confirmed it to me in the summer of 2008, when we were talking to each other every day.

The demonstration was held in the city’s main square, which was surrounded by cafés. I had the impression that the locals were staring at us in bewilderment, as if they were seeing something completely foreign or extraterrestrial. We had come to Larissa because rumors were spreading about the construction of a new prison wing—a solitary confinement wing—intended for the people implicated in the case of the November 17 Revolutionary Organization. This meant that they would be transferred from the special wing at Korydallos, which would cause many problems for them, their families, and their lawyers, given the distance from Athens. It’s not easy to cover 700 kilometers round-trip for an hour-and-a-half visit. I immediately noticed the combative-looking black bloc gathering in the square. Then, the march moved toward the prison. When the demonstration began, it naturally continued to draw stares from the locals. As expected, two or three buses full of riot police—plus rows of green uniforms containing something resembling human beings—were waiting for us at our destination, thus preventing us from getting any closer to the prison.

Our slogans and cries were joined by some loud whistling, and from the other side hands reached out as far as they could between the cell bars to greet us by waving shirts and sheets. Because of the distance, we couldn’t see their faces, so each one of us imagined someone desperately trying to give back what they were receiving. Was it solidarity, or just the simple presence of human beings? Who knows.

The march left us all feeling good. There were plenty of people, and it had “impact,” enthusiasm, and tension. However, what remains etched in my memory of that day is an image I don’t know how many others could have seen. As we were covering the last stretch before the prison—passing the last few houses in the city, our slogans echoing in the air—my gaze fell on a silhouette on the balcony of an old two-story home. Taking a closer look, I was astonished to see a little old man—about 80 years old, and clearly moved—saluting our march with tears in his eyes. Had we perhaps reminded him of something? What kinds of memories had we coaxed from the depths of his mind to make him compare them with what he was seeing at that moment? I don’t know, and it really didn’t matter. What mattered was the event itself and the flood of emotions it unleashed, on all sides. It’s extraordinary to realize that what you do in the present can cause someone you meet by chance in the future to shed at least a few nostalgic tears for their past. You and your comrades are creating and changing the present, yet you also experience it alone, as a separate and unique being within the group.

In the end, regardless of why that image of prison stuck in my mind, “curiosity killed the cat.” And what a cat! Armed to the teeth and ready for anything, or at least that’s what I thought. To tell the truth, as a “promising” young anarchist in the twilight of 1997 and the years to come, I immersed myself in the shock wave of social ferment without giving it too much thought, convinced that they would never catch me. I was just like that cat! Oh, what a mistake! Although, looking back at my record, the cold light of hindsight can confirm that “I was around for a minute,” like they say on the streets. It wasn’t a very long time, but I did hold on for more than eight years, like a fakir walking on hot coals until my skin finally caught fire. I was treading those hot coals in a certain way, and I decided to transform my stride into preparatory work, which in my opinion was necessary to pave the way for the arrival of the eagerly awaited future revolution.

But it didn’t take long for “the worst” to finally catch up with me, which was also partially the result of some bad luck that hung me out to dry at one of the most critical moments of my life—when I had to face three rabid pig bullets that seemed to be engraved with my name, destined to accompany me on a one-way trip. However, like a real cat with nine lives, for some unknown reason I remained on the dock without setting foot on that infamous black-clad boatman’s ferry. Instead, I found myself in the exact place I was so curious about, so curious to see what went on inside. Like I said, it was a place I never expected to enter when I was a promising young anarchist.

Behind Bars

A new chapter in my life opened, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to close anytime soon. They nailed me for a “felony,” according to what their penal code says. A bank robbery worth 110 million euros, expertly framing me for six other similarly mysterious cases and a stack of other crimes that the police jackals will easily be able to charge me with—serving their holy office with the flawless sense of professionalism and decency they’ve always been known for—plus three arrest warrants for my friends and comrades. For Marios, Grigoris, and Simos, who were called my accomplices and in time came to be known as the “master thieves,” the “iron links” that would help “dismantle the armed guerrilla groups.” Who knows what else has been written in the different putrid and “distinguished” newspapers, or said by the “unquestionably noble and ethical” TV reporters—stooges of police propaganda, all of them. The result? In October 2009, the newly-formed parliamentary terrorist organization PASOK put a price of 600,000 euros on the heads of all three, thus making their lives even more difficult, as they were already on the run from the law and hidden from the scrutiny of the prosecutorial organs, refusing to recognize the arrest warrants.

And had the worst stopped there, the difficulties may have certainly continued, but perhaps one would have been able to swallow that bitter pill. But that’s not how things played out, and the devil stuck his foot in again. This time it had nothing to do with me. Rather, it was about Simos. And he didn’t just “stick his foot in.” They actually cut it off entirely. An armed robbery at the Praktiker hardware megastore on Pireos Street in the Gazi neighborhood. Screams, shots, injuries, commotion. The police arrive at the scene of the crime and hear an eyewitness say that “one of the criminals was tall.” A butterfly flaps its wings in Vietnam and a hurricane slams into the Athens neighborhood of Keramikos. Not once but twice, because apart from Simos being found by chance and then seriously wounded and arrested, another friend and comrade, Aris, is caught in the same area and subsequently locked upon totally fabricated and ridiculous charges. The prosecuting authorities bury their findings in the district attorney’s report and delay their disclosure until just before Aris is released thanks to a lack of evidence regarding the charges he was arrested on. And as if robbing him of his liberty at the last minute wasn’t enough, they also deprive him of his father. He was a father to Aris, a comrade to us, and his heart couldn’t bear such injustice, indignation, and rage. He has left us forever. If I’m making an effort to narrate everything that’s happened recently, from the day this wretched 2010 dawned through all the horribly unsettling developments within the anarchist milieu, it’s only because of the names involved. At the very least, it’s a cautionary remembrance, so we don’t forget a single comrade. It’s so we don’t forget Lambros, stripped of his life by yet another police bullet in the alleyways of Dafni while he was expropriating a car for use in the general context of class war. It’s so we don’t forget Haris, Panayiotis, Konstantina, Ilias, Giorgos, Polykarpos, Vangelis, Christos, Alfredo, Pola, Nikos, Vangelis, Costas, Christoforos, and Sarantos.

For now, setting aside the tragically sad appraisal of 2010 and returning to the dark days of my past—to the beginning of a life caged by iron bars—I initiate a “search” of my biological hard drive and find myself at the end of January 2006.

I can still recall that sunny morning in Athens General Hospital, when the pigs notified me that I had to get ready for my transfer to Agios Pavlos Prison Hospital. I remember it well because it had finally stopped snowing. All of Greece was covered in snow that year, prompting chaos and confusion in the urban areas, bringing nearly everything to a standstill, dismantling—although only for a few days—the well-organized infrastructure of the great cities, and halting transportation as well as planned and routine construction and other work throughout the public and private sectors.

We had been waiting for this very snowfall—or at least some spell of bad weather, which according to the news had to arrive—to help us achieve our unholy objective. The goal was to rob the National Bank at the corner of Hippocrates and Solonos. It’s a spot right in the middle of Athens, and we optimistically anticipated a big haul—although clearly accompanied by enormous, almost prohibitive risk. It’s not like we would have postponed the day of our escapade if the storm hadn’t helped us out. We weren’t a bunch of kids. We had already decided on the date: Monday, January 16. It was a rather nasty day to attempt pulling off such a feat, because at the beginning of the week everyone is at their post and ready to do their duty, especially the pigs. Nevertheless, some madness pushed us to the edge of the abyss.

In the end, the storm played a dirty trick on us, and the sun—triumphant, and proud of its victory in the dead of winter—rose to the heights that Monday morning, effortlessly shining its warm rays on the citizens of Attica. On the one hand, this brought everyone out to do their jobs and errands, which worked in favor of our sacrilege since downtown resembled a viscous human river in which you could only get around with difficulty. On the other hand, like the others in the car, I was decked out in a sweater, a winter coat, and the martial tools of expropriation. Flushed and sweaty, I took off my scarf, cursed our bad luck, and watched all the smiling foot patrols march through central Athens under the warm sun.

Pensive and nervous upon seeing the first bad signs, we reached the rendezvous point, from which we had to set off toward our final destination. We met the others there. All of us definitely had the same strange feeling. We were like a little black hole of conspiracy, far away from everything going on around us, alien to the general atmosphere of pure joy radiating from those who had come downtown just because the day was bathed in sunlight. At that moment and in the moments to come, our own universe was light years away from the one everyone else belonged to. In a just few minutes, our universe was going crash into theirs—violently, of course—making our presence visible and disrupting our different yet parallel lives, which rarely crossed. Our lives and theirs. One world’s instant intrusion into another, setting off an uncontrollable chain of events. One more slap in the face of normality, one more slap in the face of the flat, rectilinear, coordinated sequence of things. Something like a multiple-car accident on the highway, when a lapse by some hurried, distracted driver drags the fate of everyone else on the road along with him, disrupting and blocking the flow of traffic all over the place.

The people waiting for us at the rendezvous point had some unpleasant news. As they were coming to meet us, they passed a police checkpoint that was close enough to the site of our action to pose a serious threat to the whole endeavor, making it almost impossible to pull off. The immediate reactions—ranging from “Fuck it, let’s do it and whatever happens happens” to “Let’s put it off and try again some other time”—balanced out, so we decided that some of us would go over to see if the pigs were still there, and we would then take action accordingly. Finally, the pigs were gone, although “gone” is somewhat relative if you’re talking about central Athens, even more so given the location of the bank. One has about as much in common with the other as a frozen supermarket pizza has with a pizza made at a good pizzeria. But like I said, something was pushing us to the edge of the abyss, and since the pigs were “gone,” we decided to go ahead. Of course, what happened next must have had something to do with Murphy’s Law, which says that “if a piece of toast with jam falls on the floor, nine out of ten times it will fall jam-side down.” The fact that everything fell apart is just like the anecdote about the toast—it’s those infernal, incalculable factors that can ruin everything, especially the unpredictability of human nature and behavior. A whirlwind of people and things that, after stopping its maddening twists and turns, overwhelms the cityscape; a stupid bank guard—with a totally mistaken and twisted perception of the extent of his duty—wounded because of his equally stupid and excessive determination to stop the escape of four bank robbers; a car that wouldn’t start; a bag full of weapons and money; three people frenetically scattering into the featureless crowd; and finally me, wounded and in the hands of my pursuers.

The sun that didn’t care about what was going on hundreds of millions of kilometers away, the sun that warmed a winter day in January, was the same sun that appeared again that morning in the hospital, stirring up that parade of memories.

I was waiting to see what would happen. I knew they were applying pressure to get me out of the intensive care unit as soon as possible, and I found out they were in a rush to bring me to the prison hospital and be done with me. My stitches—little pieces of metal in the shape of a Π (Greek “P”), like those things that fasten upholstery to the frame of a couch—were still in, running from my chest to my groin. Generally speaking, I still needed a bit of work, but no matter how strongly I objected to them moving me from the hospital, the pigs already had orders from above. “And if the boss says so, what can I do?” With a lot of pain and effort, I began to gather my things, even though my wounds didn’t allow me to stand upright. Those details didn’t matter to the boss. Evidently, this was also included in the price I now began to pay for my decisions.

Nevertheless, the final touches to my hasty expulsion from the hospital were yet to come. Before the police masterminds could even begin to calculate how many radios, weapons, boots, etc., they would need in order to coordinate the “secure transfer” operation, just at that moment, my mom showed up, arriving very early for the regular visit with her spoiled son.

My mom, Mrs. Eleni, separated from her son by just 17 years. In the 90s, whenever someone from the water or power company came by and we opened our door together, they would always ask: “Is your mother home?” Mrs. Eleni, who almost had a nervous breakdown when she heard the news that I was mixed up in a bank robbery and wounded during the shootout. Although she must have gotten over it, because the pigs at Police Headquarters were ultimately unable to get a single statement from her in the interrogation room due to the fact that she began to wail desperately: “I want to see my son!” Even the pigs were at a loss in the face of my mom’s reaction. What could they do? She was a mother fighting for her son. Beat her up? Send her to the dungeon so they wouldn’t have to listen to her? It would have been like that or worse 60 years ago during the dark civil war period of 1946, or even 35 years ago during the years of the arrogant Junta scum. However, it was now 2006, and we had already been through 30 years of the parliamentary oligarchy’s fake democracy, in which fascist and blatantly authoritarian arrangements were concealed behind other forms of violence—more flexible and perhaps more efficient. In any case, my mom’s wailing brought her—like it or not—to the hospital I was in, and her reaction was a given. That crazy woman wasn’t going to let them forget her!

Feeling that one of her little ones was being threatened or in danger, a woman with strong maternal instincts became a real hyena, a ferocious beast (especially when compared to her day-to-day attitude toward institutions, authority, and codes of conduct). Seemingly unprepared for everything that was going on that morning, she was actually so combative—like any true mother—that she opposed anything that could have endangered my physical and psychological integrity.

As you can easily imagine, the matter of my abduction/transfer to the prison hospital was now up in the air for a while until “the responsible power”—in other words, my mom—could see the doctors who were taking care of me. Like she said, they were the only ones who should decide if I was to be discharged. And that’s how things went. A throng of white coats—flustered and clearly surprised—appeared in the distance with my mother leading the way, heading for the stretcher that was already prepared for departure.

“Who ordered the patient’s transfer?” one of the doctors asked the pigs.

“We have orders from above, sir. It’s not our decision.”

“Perhaps I could speak to your superior?”

“Just a moment, I have to get authorization.”

And while the responsible people in charge were literally fuming, my stretcher was brought back to my room so that—in keeping with the outcome of the battle between the doctors and the pigs—they could take one last look at me. They said they were going to remove the remaining stitches and prescribe some medications that I should keep taking. They also explained that the most difficult and important part of my recovery was over, and now the only thing left was to recover my strength by resting and eating a lot. Incidentally, that was something of a half-truth, or more accurately a lie wrapped up in “not quite ready” packaging. I was able to listen in on the fight between the doctors, my mom, and the pigs, with the doctors insisting that I still wasn’t ready to be transferred, and the pigs monotonously repeating that they were “simply following orders.” “Following orders” obviously won, as expected.

But this wasn’t the first time the scales tipped in favor of the pigs and their fucking orders. Something similar happened before over the issue of guarding me in the intensive care unit, when the medical team managed to resist the pressure of the security forces—who wanted to invade my room—for two days, their basic argument being that such an invasion would pose a danger not just to me but to the other patients as well. Still, it would have been naive to believe that basic human values could prevail over the new “repression and security” dogma.

It was the same when the head of the ICU—shaken and beside himself—came to tell me he couldn’t keep me under his personal supervision anymore, even though my condition required it, because he was being severely pressured by the persecuting authorities, who wanted him to sign off on my release from the 24-hour intensive care unit and approve my transfer to the ophthalmology wing. Why there and not surgery? “Security reasons” again, of course. The pigs were demanding that an entire operating room be cleared and the other patients thrown out, just so they could keep a closer eye on me. They really believed that’s how it had to be, even though it would have been impossible for the hospital. So instead, they brought me to a specially “prepared” room in the ophthalmology wing, which I was told was where Dimitris Koufodinas had his “accommodations” during the hunger strike he carried out to make them remove the security netting that covered the yard of the prison wing he was locked up in. The room was certainly prepared, since there was nothing in it. They had removed or bolted down anything they thought a prisoner could use for an eventual suicide attempt or vigilante attack, and the balcony door was barred, naturally. The rigid logic of heightened stupidity.

Wasn’t it the dogma of security and intimidation that, in the blink of an eye, wiped away the last traces of the room’s dignity and humanity? Wasn’t it pure sadism and vengeance that pushed those subhumans to watch my mother while she cleaned the shit off my bedridden body, without looking away for a single moment? Wasn’t it their harsh behavior the whole time I was in their suffocating “embrace” that led to my being withdrawn, edgy, and exhausted when the interrogator and prosecutor came by to take my statement? Or was it perhaps a sign of compassion when head torturer and prosecutor Diotis, not just ignoring but jeopardizing the disastrous condition I was in at the time—intentionally or not—visited me for my statement while I had a tube stuck down my throat and was visibly incapable of uttering a complete sentence?

These are obviously rhetorical questions, and I ask them not to moan about the trampling of democratic rights, but to reveal the context in which the conflict between two counteracting forces—two completely different worlds—is developing. On one side we have those who dream of a totally subjugated and enslaved society that serves the oligarchic desires of a few insatiable idlers. And on the other side we have those who are fighting for real equality, justice, and freedom; those who are creating a new reality far away from terms like profit, competitiveness, exploitation, and hierarchy.

While the wheels of my stretcher rushed over the little bumps in the hospital floor, each time transferring a sharp pain to my freshly operated-on back, the ruffian herd—in between a shouted stream of orders, and to their great relief—brought me toward my final departure from Athens General Hospital. When the first few rays of warm sunlight struck me in the courtyard—where an ambulance and its packed escort cars were already waiting to securely transfer me to Agios Pavlos Prison Hospital—it felt truly liberating, and seemed to make up for my three weeks of cohabitation with uniformed guard dogs. Those few seconds I spent outside before they put me in the ambulance were my last opportunity to breathe fresh air and see the sun without bars and barbed wire between us. With the sun as my comrade, I bid a final farewell to freedom, and entered the longest winter of my life.

People are being transferred very frequently. Therefore, this list will continue to be updated as needed. The mailing addresses of the prisons where our comrades are being held are written in Greek, but with Latin letters in order to make it easier for those showing solidarity from other countries to send letters and postcards. The way the addresses are written should make them understandable to Greek postal employees and civil servants.

At the moment, there are pending arrest warrants for 12 people from the anarchist milieu: six related to the Fire Cells Conspiracy case; four suspected by authorities to be accomplices of Yiannis Skouloudis; plus Marios Seisidis and Grigoris Tsironis, who have been in hiding since January 2006 (with prices on their heads) and are accused of the same bank robbery as Yiannis Dimitrakis.

Karakatsani is charged with participating in the Fire Cells Conspiracy. A warrant was issued for her arrest on September 25, 2009, and she was ultimately caught on April 22, 2010. Her trial is on January 17, 2011.

Roupa was arrested with five other comrades on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, she admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter co-written with Constantinos “Costas” Gournas and Nikolaos “Nikos” Maziotis. On July 24, she gave birth to her and Maziotis’ son Lambros-Victor.

Masouras was arrested on September 23, 2009 and charged with participating in the Fire Cells Conspiracy. He has been in a juvenile facility since the beginning of his imprisonment. His trial is on January 17, 2011.

Argyrou had a warrant out for his arrest since October 2009 on charges of participating in the Fire Cells Conspiracy. He was arrested on November 1, 2010 in connection with the mailing of a number of package-bombs. His trial for the Fire Cells Conspiracy charges is on January 17, 2011, while a trial date for the package-bombs has yet to be determined.

The 73-year-old Bonanno might be the oldest prisoner in the entire country. He was arrested with Christos Stratigopoulos in Trikala on October 1, 2009 and charged with being an “accessory to a felony” for his alleged role in a bank robbery. His trial is scheduled for November 22.

Dimitrakis was arrested on January 16, 2006 after being seriously wounded by police bullets during a bank robbery in downtown Athens. Meanwhile, an arrest warrant was issued for three comrades alleged to be his accomplices. Two of them, Marios Seisidis and Grigoris Tsironis, remain at large. The third, Symeon “Simos” Seisidis, was arrested on May 3, 2010. In June 2007, Dimitrakis was sentenced to 35-and-a-half years in prison. After two postponements, his final appeal opportunity is now scheduled for December 6, 2010.

Georgiadis was arrested in Thessaloniki at the end of August 2008 and charged with the kidnapping of industrialist Giorgos Mylonas, which took place earlier that summer. In February 2010, he and comrade Vangelis Chrysochoidis were each sentenced to 22 years and three months in prison.

Gournas was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, together with Nikolaos “Nikos” Maziotis and Panayiota “Pola” Roupa, he admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter.

Nikitopoulos was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. He denies all the charges. He and Maziotis are isolated in a special wing of Korydallos along with certain prisoners from the November 17 leftist urban guerrilla group.

Maziotis was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, together with Constantinos “Costas” Gournas and Panayiota “Pola” Roupa, he admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter.

Traikapis was arrested together with Alexandros Kosivas and a female comrade who was later released on probation. Along with Kosivas, Traiikapis is charged with robbing a bank in the town of Psachna. He denies the charges. He is also scheduled to face trial for his alleged participation in the riots during the 2003 EU summit in Thessaloniki.

Pallis is an “ordinary” prisoner with antiauthoritarian leanings who was “politicized” in prison. He has been part of the struggle inside prisons for many years. His letters and other writings often appear in anarchist publications. A few days ago he was finally granted leave for the first time in eight years.

Seirinidis was arrested in Athens on May 3, 2010 (the same day as Symeon “Simos” Seisidis) during a random police identity check and initially charged with “weapons possession” (he was carrying a handgun) and “resisting arrest.” Using his DNA sample as the sole piece of evidence, he was later charged with a police shooting that happened last year.

A warrant was issued for comrade Seisidis’ arrest on January 16, 2006. He is charged with seven total robberies, one of which is the same bank robbery that Yiannis Dimitrakis is charged with. Seisidis was shot by police during his arrest on May 3, 2010 and suffered a serious injury to his leg, which later had to be amputated. He is currently in the prison hospital at Korydallos.

Comrade Ilias Nikolau, after submitting a petition for release during his October 21 hearing at the court of appeals, has been freed on 15,000 euros bail. Nikolau was arrested on January 13, 2009 and charged with planting an incendiary device at the Evosmos police station in Thessaloniki. On December 4, 2009, he was sentenced to seven-and-a-half years in prison. Keep in mind that Nikolau and three other comrades are scheduled for yet another trial. In November 2007, Vangelis Botzatzis was arrested in Thessaloniki and charged with a number of arsons. Arrest warrants were also issued for three of Botzatzis’ comrades—Nikolau, Costas Halazas, and Dimitra Sirianou—and all three went into hiding. Botzatzis was released on probation in October 2008, while his three comrades—after spending almost a year underground—showed up at a police station on November 14, 2008 (in the middle of weeks of massive protest in Greek prisons), accompanied by hundreds of people showing solidarity. The next day, all three were released pending trial on 2000 euros bail each, but Nikolau fell into the enemy’s hands for the Evosmos arson two months later.

Another comrade in prison

In the early morning of October 13, a van belonging to the Public Power Corporation (DEI) was torched in downtown Thessaloniki using an incendiary device made out of camping gas canisters, gasoline, and a fuse. The vehicle was completely incinerated, but 19-year-old comrade Yiannis Skouloudis was arrested “in flagrante delicto” (“caught red-handed”). That very morning, the same police-media operation we’ve seen so many times began: Pigs raided the homes of comrades and family members, seizing computers, flash drives, and anarchist literature, while reporters celebrated the authorities’ “resounding success.” But the prosecutors and judges didn’t stop there. According to them, “there must be an organization,” so four arrest warrants were issued the next day. Four comrades, ranging in age from 19 to 22, went into hiding. On Friday, October 15, people assembled in solidarity in front of the courthouse where Skouloudis was being arraigned. Minor clashes broke out between comrades and police inside and outside the courthouse, with injuries on both sides (including to Skouloudis’ mother). The courthouse and a nearby police van had windows broken. On Monday, October 18, Skouloudis appeared before a judge and took responsibility for the DEI van arson, but he refused to testify about anything else. The next morning, he was transferred to the Avlona Special Detention Center for Minors, where Panayiotis Masouras is currently locked up on charges stemming from the Fire Cells Conspiracy case.

The Revolutionary Struggle case

For quite some time, the Revolutionary Struggle case has been the hands of prosecutor Constantinos Baltas, who is also handling the Fire Cells Conspiracy case and seems intent on advancing his career by “fighting terrorism.” In recent weeks, he has called some 45 witnesses to give depositions. Most of the witnesses are related to the case through fingerprints found in the homes of the six defendants (Constantinos “Costas” Gournas, Nikolaos “Nikos” Maziotis, Panayiota “Pola” Roupa, Christoforos Kortesis, Sarantos Nikitopoulos, and Evangelos “Vangelis” Stathopoulos) and anarchist Lambros Fountas, who was killed by police in March. Some of the witnesses have already passed through Baltas’ office (and according to them, the depositions were mostly about the prosecutor attempting to verify their psycho-socio-political profile), while others still have appointments pending. Two comrades have refused to show up entirely, and they published open letters (here and here) explaining their decisions, which thus far haven’t yielded any negative repercussions. However, four people were shocked to learn that they weren’t being called as witnesses but as “members of Revolutionary Struggle.” One is Gournas’ partner Maria Beraha, who is the mother of his 22-month-old twins, while another is well-known anarchist Nikos Malapanis, who is friends with some of the defendants. This obvious attempt to criminalize the milieu of family and friends was met with a collective response on November 1, when some 200 people showed up outside the courthouse to shout slogans in solidarity with the prisoners. Meanwhile, Beraha and Malapanis have asked for extensions and will be deposed on November 11.

The Fire Cells Conspiracy case

On October 27, more or less six months after her arrest, Konstantina “Nina” Karakatsani appeared at the Athens court of appeals. According to Greek law, after a prisoner spends six months in preventive detention, a committee of appellate court judges has to decide whether or not to extend the detention. A small group of comrades and family was there to greet Karakatsani with slogans of solidarity. There was some jostling and scuffling with riot police, who were in charge of pushing people on to the sidewalk. Four people were arrested, two of whom were released the following day (mostly with “nuisance” charges like “insulting an officer” and “resisting authority”). When members of the Anti-Terrorist Squad escorted Karakatsani from the courthouse to the transport van, those who were there could see her smiling, which was the best possible response to our greetings and slogans. Despite the fact that the judges’ decision (whether positive or negative) always takes a few days, and even the lawyers aren’t notified on the same day as the court, a maggot reporter from the most popular news blog in Greece immediately posted a story that “it has been decided to extend Konstantina Karakatsani’s preventive detention for another six months.” In any case, the trial of the case’s three (for now) defendants (Karakatsani, Harilaos “Haris” Hatzimichelakis, and Panayiotis “Takis” Masouras) will most likely take place in January 2011, and not in two weeks as was previously expected.

Tuberculosis epidemic in Kerkyra Prison

A tuberculosis epidemic broke out two weeks ago in Kerkyra Prison, which is located on the island of Corfu in the Ionian Sea. Polykarpos Georgiadis is one of the prisoners currently locked up at Kerkyra. Many prisoners have been infected and brought to the hospital. The causes of the epidemic are obvious: The infected inmates weren’t quarantined; the prison administration decided to “recycle” protective surgical masks, thus spreading the infection, instead of throwing them out after a single use; and the lack of hygiene and medical attention, which is symptomatic of all Greek prisons, has reached monstrous proportions at Kerkyra. Kerkyra was built by the English at the beginning of the 19th century, and it is the oldest prison in Greece. It might even be the oldest prison in Europe. It was constructed in the form of a panopticon, and its solitary confinement cells are underground, windowless, narrow, and low-ceilinged, with walls covered in mold from the humidity. After spending time in Kerkyra’s basement punishment cells, more than a few prisoners have “gone crazy” and committed suicide.

Still missing are the addresses of the two comrades charged with the August bank robbery on the island of Rhodes. Also, arrest warrants are currently in effect for 11 people from the anarchist milieu: five for the Fire Cells Conspiracy case; four considered by the authorities to be Yiannis Skouloudis’ accomplices; plus Marios Seisidis and Grigoris Tsironis, who are accused of participating in the same bank robbery as Yiannis Dimitrakis and have been at large since 2006 (with a price on their heads).

Like this:

The mailing addresses of the prisons where our comrades are being held are written in Greek, but with Latin letters in order to make it easier for those showing solidarity from other countries to send letters and postcards. The way they’re written should make them understandable to Greek postal employees and civil servants.

Information about particular cases, as well as letters from many of the prisoners, have been translated into Spanish and English and can be found at various websites. Accordingly, this list lays the groundwork for the more frequent publication of news, letters, and updates regarding our comrades. The prisoners themselves are being transferred frequently. Therefore, this list will continue to be updated as needed.

It should be pointed out that right now three of the comrades charged in the Revolutionary Struggle case (Constantinos “Costas” Gournas, Christoforos Kortesis, and Evangelos “Vangelis” Stathopoulos) are in Korydallos Prison, but it’s not known whether they will be transferred together to the same prisons in the future. Additionally, Evangelos “Vangelis” Pallis—after he was found seriously wounded (with a glass shard stuck in his carotid artery) in his cell at Trikala Prison over a month ago—is currently in an Athens hospital, and his condition is improving. He is able to speak with the aid of an appliance that had to be implanted. Also missing from the list are the addresses for comrades Alexandros Kosivas and Michalis Traikapis, who are charged with a bank robbery in Psachna, and another two people (one of whom is Thodoris Delis) arrested in Rhodes this past summer.

Roupa was arrested with five other comrades on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, she admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter co-written with Constantinos “Costas” Gournas and Nikolaos “Nikos” Maziotis. On July 24 she gave birth to her and Maziotis’ son Lambros-Victor.

At 73 years of age, Alfredo might be the oldest prisoner in the entire country. He was arrested with Christos Stratigopoulos in Trikala on October 1, 2009 and charged with being an “accessory to a felony” for his alleged role in a bank robbery. His trial is scheduled for November 22.

Dimitrakis was arrested on January 16, 2006 after being seriously wounded by police bullets during a bank robbery in downtown Athens. Meanwhile, an arrest warrant was issued for three comrades alleged to be his accomplices. Two of them, Marios Seisidis and Grigoris Tsironis, remain at large. The third, Symeon “Simos” Seisidis, was arrested on May 3, 2010. In June 2007, Dimitrakis was sentenced to 35-and-a-half years in prison. His final appeal opportunity was recently postponed for the second time, from April 28, 2010 to December 6, 2010.

Nikolau was arrested on January 13, 2009 and charged with planting an incendiary device at the Evosmos police station in Thessaloniki. On December 4, 2009, he was sentenced to seven-and-a-half years in prison.

Georgiadis was arrested in Thessaloniki at the end of August 2008 and charged with the kidnapping of industrialist Giorgos Mylonas, which took place earlier that summer. In February 2010, he and comrade Vangelis Chrysochoidis were each sentenced to 22 years and three months in prison.

Gournas was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, together with Nikolaos “Nikos” Maziotis and Panayiota “Pola” Roupa, he admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter.

Nikitopoulos was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. He denies all the charges. He and Maziotis are being held in a special wing of Korydallos along with certain prisoners from the November 17 leftist urban guerrilla group.

Maziotis was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, together with Constantinos “Costas” Gournas and Panayiota “Pola” Roupa, he admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter.

Seirinidis was arrested in Athens on May 3, 2010 (the same day as Symeon “Simos” Seisidis) during a random police identity check and initially charged with “weapons possession” (he was carrying a handgun) and “resisting arrest.” Using his DNA sample as the sole piece of evidence, he was later charged with a police shooting that happened last year.

A warrant was issued for comrade Seisidis’ arrest on January 16, 2006. He is being charged with the same robbery as Yiannis Dimitrakis. Seisidis was shot by police during his arrest on May 3 and suffered a serious injury to his leg, which later had to be amputated. He is currently in the prison hospital at Korydallos. In accordance with exemplary Greek judicial tradition, which burdens those at large with every possible unresolved “juicy case,” Seisidis is now being charged with a series of crimes including the two-year-old murder of a guard. However, in Seisidis’ case, the legal surrealism goes even further. Since the law doesn’t allow anyone to be tried for a felony in absentia, Seisidis (when he was still at large) was tried only for his alleged misdemeanor participation in the January 16, 2006 bank robbery. And for that misdemeanor he was given seven-and-a-half years in prison. The (rhetorical) question is: How could he be sentenced for a misdemeanor without the court recognizing his “guilt” for felony participation in said robbery?

Like this:

The mailing addresses of the prisons where our comrades are being held are written in Greek, but with Latin letters in order to make it easier for those showing solidarity from other countries to send letters and postcards. The way they’re written should make them understandable to Greek postal employees and civil servants.

Information about particular cases, as well as letters from many of the prisoners, have been translated into Spanish and English and can be found at various websites. Accordingly, this list lays the groundwork for the more frequent publication of news, letters, and updates regarding our comrades.

The following list does not include comrade Symeon “Simos” Seisidis, who was shot by police during his May 3, 2010 arrest and suffered a serious injury to his leg, which was later amputated. He is still in Evangelismos Hospital, under permanent surveillance by the police anti-terrorist squad.

Karakatsani is charged with participating in the Fire Cells Conspiracy. A warrant was issued for her arrest on September 25, 2009, and she was finally caught on April 22, 2010. Two weeks later, she was transferred from Elaionas women’s prison to the female wing at Korydallos.

Roupa was arrested with five other comrades on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. On April 29, she admitted to taking part in said group via an open letter co-written with Nikolaos “Nikos” Maziotis and Constantinos “Costas” Gournas. Due to her advanced stage of pregnancy, she has been transferred from Elaionas to Athens, where she is currently waiting to be brought to hospital.

Hatzimichelakiswas arrested on September 23, 2009 and charged with participating in the Fire Cells Conspiracy.

Alfredo Bonanno
Dikastiki Filaki Koridallou
T.K. 18110 Athens
Greece

At 73 years of age, Alfredo might be the oldest prisoner in the entire country. He was arrested with Christos Stratigopoulos in Trikala on October 1, 2009 and charged with being an “accessory to a felony” for his alleged role in a bank robbery.

Dimitrakis was arrested on January 16, 2006 after being seriously wounded by police bullets during a bank robbery in downtown Athens. Meanwhile, an arrest warrant was issued for three comrades alleged to be his accomplices. Two of them, Marios Seisidis y Grigoris Tsironis, remain at large. The third, Simos Seisidis, was arrested on May 3, 2010. In June 2007, Dimitrakis was sentenced to 35-and-a-half years in prison. His final appeal opportunity was recently postponed for the second time, from April 28, 2010 to December 6.

Nikolau was arrested on January 13, 2009 and charged with planting an incendiary device at the Evosmos police station in Thessaloniki. On December 4, 2009, he was sentenced to seven-and-a-half years in prison.

Georgiadis was arrested in Thessaloniki at the end of August 2008 and charged with the kidnapping of industrialist Giorgos Mylonas, which took place earlier that summer. In February 2010, he and comrade Vangelis Chrysochoidis were each sentenced to 22 years and three months in prison. Two weeks later, Georgiadis was transferred from Korydallos in Athens to Kerkyra Prison on the island of Corfu—a 19th-century structure built in the form of a panopticon. It is considered the worst “penitentiary facility” in Greece.

Nikitopoulos was arrested on April 10, 2010 and charged with participating in Revolutionary Struggle. He denies all the charges. He and Maziotis are being held in a special wing of Korydallos Prison along with prisoners from the November 17 urban guerrilla group.

Pallis is an “ordinary” prisoner who was “politicized” in prison. He has been part of the struggle inside prisons for many years. His letters and other writings often appear in anarchist publications.

Aris Seirinidis
Dikastiki Filaki Koridallou
T.K. 18110 Athens
Greece

Seirinidis was arrested in Athens on May 3, 2010 (the same day as Simos Seisidis) during a random police identity check and initially charged with “weapons possession” (he was carrying a handgun) and “resisting arrest.” The mass media and police immediately began a disinformation campaign, suggesting that Seirinidis and Simos Seisidis perpetrated a “bloody robbery” at a Praktiker hardware store. A day later, the authorities rejected that version of events, and on May 7 they decided to grant Seirinidis a provisional release. However, the pigs weren’t satisfied with that decision, and a new arrest warrant was issued for Seirinidis just before his release. This time, Seirinidis was charged with a police shooting that happened last year. The case in question is a strange one, one of those stories that becomes an “urban legend”: One afternoon at the beginning of July 2009, someone wearing shorts, sandals, a Mexican sombrero, and a surgical mask walked out on to Harilaou Trikoupi Street in Exarcheia and opened fire on a riot police unit guarding the headquarters of the socialist PASOK party. The media called it the “sombrero lunatic” case (obviously, no matter how they may be dressed, we don’t think someone who shoots at the pigs is a “lunatic”), and it became something of a disgrace to the police. The only evidence they found was the surgical mask, and they claim its DNA matches DNA taken from Seirinidis’ wallet. The case is riddled with contradictions, since the testimony of the riot police squad’s commanding officer is not consistent with Seirinidis’ physical description.